Tipping the Sitch
by Leonharte
Summary: KPTipping the Velvet xover. Shannan Astley aka Shego thinks that her life revolves around the oyster parlour until one fateful night at the theatre where all she ever knew is turned on its head. Femslashshoujoai KiGo KS.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Have you ever tasted a Whitstable oyster? If you had, you would agree they are the best in Kent, if not all of England. There is something in the sea's salty water there that gives them a special full-bodied taste incomparable to others. The French regularly dine at Whitstable for our oysters, and they are shipped over to the lords and ladies of Berlin and Hamburg every season.

I should know, as Whitstable oysters were the basis of my childhood. If you've been to Whitstable, you might have seen a small, weatherboard house of flaking blue, with the sign _Astley's Oysters, Best in Kent_. If you ever chanced to enter, do you remember the chequered tablecloths, the menu on the chalkboard, the dim, and lively, atmosphere of the one-room parlour?

Maybe a tall, rosy-cheeked girl served you with a whistle and a smile? That was my sister, Megan. Perhaps a tall man with a clean, white apron took your order? That was my father. If you looked through the constantly swinging door to the small kitchen, you would see a delicate woman working the stove and cleaning plates. That would be my mother. And perhaps you saw a small, unremarkable girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting on a stool beside the bench, working at the oyster shells with a oyster knife, singing to the latest show tune as she worked? That was me.

For eighteen years, Astley's Oysters was my home, my world, my life. I didn't question it. Every day, from seven to seven, mother would cook, Megan and my father would serve, and I would sit on my stool cleaning and prising open oysters. I had learned to open an oyster and the flick of the wrist that severed the beard from the flesh before I had learned the flick of the wrist learned for writing.

Oysters raw were easiest, just place them on a plate with a piece of parsley and off to the awaiting customer. But oysters could be eaten in a variety of ways, and it was for most of these that I spent my time opening oysters and removing beards, then ever so carefully transferring to a cooking pot without spilling any liquor. The sheer number of oysters I would do this too was quite a number, considering an order was around a dozen oysters, and our parlour, which was nearly always at full, had capacity of 50 people.

My life, apart from oysters, was full of family. I had a great number of cousins, and of course my sister Megan, with whom I shared a bed and a room up on the top floor. We shared our secrets, there was nothing that we didn't know about one another. I also had a kind of beau, a boy named Drew, more commonly known as Drakken, a name he had commandeered from a soldier he had read about. He worked with my brother Hego in Whitstable Bay.

The third piece of my life was the music hall. Whitstable doesn't have it own theatre, but the fifteen minute train to Canterbury allowed you to visit the Canterbury Palace of Varieties. The Palace was small, and rather shabby considering all I have seen, but to me as a small girl was like the pearl among the oysters I spent all day shelling. It had its own particular smell, the smell of grease and oil, tobacco, beer and gas.

We had connections to the Palace. Megan had a beau who worked there, Senor Senior Jr, son of the owner of the same name, Senior Sr. My parents distrusted him at the start, but no one could dislike him for too long, he was so easy-going and good natured. Megan and I could be found most Saturday nights in the music hall, singing along to the ones we knew and calling for our favourite songs. When the show was over Megan would visit Senior Jr in his office, then we would be on our way, singing the songs all the way on the train right up to our bedroom, where we would whisper them to each other.

The next day as I handled the oysters, I would sing the songs to myself. My mother joked that I was destined for the stage, and we laughed about it. Megan was the one that was suited to the stage, suited to dancing and singing and entertaining crowds. I was shy, with features most wouldn't look twice at. You wouldn't find girls like me working the stage. Or so I, Shannan Astley, thought, until the week Quinn Sunderland came to the Palace.

xXx

A/N: Total props to sapphicspencil over at for the challenge, it was a totally wicked idea and I'm privileged to be a part of it.

This story is a crossover of Kim Possible and Tipping the Velvet. More correctly, the KP characters being inserted into TtV. Shego is our protagonist, renamed for literary purposes Shannan. But, just as Kitty nicknamed Nancy 'Nan', I think OUR Kitty can nicknamed Shannan 'Shego.' I'll find a way to make that fit.

Writing this presented several challenges, the first of which being combining 1800's England with 2000's cartoon. Being my first KP fic, I'm sure to mess up characterisation quite a bit. Please let me know so I can fix my mistakes.

Secondly, it's sometimes challenging to match up minor characters, such as Tony and Tricky Reeves (Senor Senior Jr and Sr). Especially when your minor character's gender doesn't match, such as the case with Nan's sister. So I took Mego, renamed him Megan (matches with Shannan that way), and Megan became the sister of Shannan.

Thirdly being that most times I struggle with first-person perspective, which is what the book is written in. But I also found the introduction was easier to write in FP. So, the rest of my tale will be written in third-person, which I think will give me a greater grasp on the characters, but before each part I'll include a first person chapter. So this is the FP before Kitty, one before Diana, and one before Florence.

Till first chapter…


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Winter was the oyster season, so when summer came, oyster parlours were required to change their menu or shut their doors. Astley's Oysters, while doing well enough, could not afford to close, and so sold other seafood plates like fish during the summer month. It was always a slower time, and Shannan and Megan had free time to do as they wanted most afternoons and evenings. This included, of course, visiting Canterbury's Palace of Varieties. Just as Mr Astley was entitled to change his fare during summer, so was Senor Senior Sr. And his first act of summer was to hire the comedian Quinn Sunderland for a week-long bill.

Shannan and Megan visited the Palace on Quinn's first night. Following her sister past the lady in the ticket booth, Shannan smiled, stepping into the theatre itself. Sights and sounds immediately surrounded her, the rough talk of the crowd, the lights of the stage, and made her feel apart of it all. Sitting in the gallery only added to the immenseness of the occasion. Because of Quinn, the hall was twice as full. Shannan shuffled in her seat in expectation, the heat making sweat run down her face. No doors or windows let in any breeze or fresh air into the theatre.

Senor Senior Sr sat in a booth to the side of the stage, the Palace's chairman, and called on acts and led toasts to the Queen, with a gavel by his side. Now he welcomed his audience with a bow and a flourish of his hat, and introduced the first performer: Merry Randalls.

The four performers danced and sang, and Shannan thought as an opening act that it wasn't at all bad. Next was a comedian, a mentalist, then acrobats.

'Too hot for acrobats,' Shannan thought, fanning herself with her hat. The heat was slowly becoming more and more unbearable.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Senior Sr cried. "A treat for you tonight! Raise your glasses, and your voices, from Phoenix Theatre, Dover, our very own Kentish swell, Miss Adrena" – _clack_, went the gavel – "Lynn!"

Onto the stage stepped a single figure, a girl. She immediately capture Shannan's eye, drawing her gaze to her well-cut gentleman's suit, her clear eyes, the gloves on her hands and the cane she leant on, her legs spread in a most boyish pose. She saluted the crowd with her top hat, and Shannan saw her hair was perfectly cut as a gentleman's would be.

Whenever Shannan had seen a girl with hair cut short as that, she was either in hospital or prison. Adrena was in neither, and the cut suited her most perfectly. Shannan was captivated by her, for whatever reason, and not once did she look away as Adrena strode the stage, hand in her pocket, staring at the crowd in mock arrogance.

Her songs were well-known, and the crowd joined in. Shannan had a sudden wish for them to be quiet so she could better here Adrena sing, but shook it off quickly. It was thrilling to hear all the gent's songs sung by such a girl with a boy's voice. When her fifteen minutes was up, she finished her act with a song about roses and sweethearts. Her voice became softer, the audience quieted. Shannan leaned forward slightly, mouth open just a fraction. Adrena's eyes seemed to fill with tears as she finished her song, and Shannan felt a lump in her throat. Then Adrena stepped back, a broad smile on her face, and searched the audience. Shannan gasped softly as Adrena's eyes passed hers.

In the microsecond they had met, Shannan had felt herself joined to Adrena completely. Adrena found what she was looking for, stepped forward, and threw her rose. Shannan leaned over the gallery rail to watch it fly into the lap of a pretty girl, who picked it up, blushing and laughed. Adrena Lynn made her final bow and exited, the crowd on its feet cheering and shouting her finale. Shannan felt pangs of disappointment as she left the stage.

"And now," Senior Sr was yelling, clacking his gavel for order. "The one you've all been waiting for… Mr Quinn Sunderland!"

The crowd's cheering seemed to lift even more, if that was at all possible, as the blonde man walked on stage. He waved at the crowd, complaining of the heat. He sent the crowd into a fit of laughter with his comical songs, all aided by a large, spotted handkerchief that he used to mop his brow with. Shannan had no heart for his comics, and leaned against the railing, watching silently. All she wanted was to see Adrena Lynn again, watch her stride around the stage singing about following in her father's footsteps. At last Megan, who was laughing and clapping as loud as anybody, leaned down and asked her what was wrong.

"I'm hot," Shannan answered, then after a second sat up and said, "I'm going downstairs,"

She rose from her seat and lifted her skirts, making her way past the people in her row and muttering "S'cuse me," as she bumped into many legs. In the lobby she leaned against the door, whispering words to Adrena's songs. From upstairs came a roar of noise, signalling that Quinn's act had finished. People trickled into the lobby, and Shannan searched the mob for Megan. At last she appeared, her face flush, and said, "Let's go see Senior Jr,"

Megan took Shannan's hand and pulled her along to Senior Jr's smallish office. The tall and unusually tanned Senior offered Shannan the chair behind his desk, and stood with Megan. They talked about Quinn and his antics, Shannan listening listlessly.

"And what about that smasher Adrena Lynn?" Senior Jr said with as much enthusiasm as he had for Quinn Sunderland. "Ain't she something?"

"Yes!" Shannan answered before Megan could. "I could watch her all night! You tell your father that she's a keeper,"

"All right then," Senior Jr said with a laugh.

"I wish I could see her again," Shannan said wistfully.

"You will on Saturday, when the whole family come to see Quinn," Megan reminded her.

"I can't wait!" Shannan enthused.

"You don't have to," Senior Jr told her. "You're welcome tomorrow night, and any other night between tonight and Saturday. I'm sure we could put you in a box right above the stage,"

Shannan's heart gave a painful twist at his words, and she wondered briefly why she wanted to see Adrena so badly.

"You really mean it?" Shannan asked, getting off the chair.

"Of course," Senior Jr promised. "In the box, where the audience can see you,"

"It might give her ideas above her station," Megan warned. But Shannan didn't care. It was only 24 hours, less even, before she could see Adrena Lynn again!

A/N: I have sudden urge to get this done as fast as possible. Inspiration is always at hand with my book and my DVD. The problem is, as always, characterising our KP characters as KP characters and not TtV characters with different names. But that will improve with the story I guess.

If you think Shego's characterisation is way off, it's almost purposely. The sarcastic, evil-driven Shego doesn't fit into the innocent Nancy. So it's almost a pre-comet Shego I'm using, and it gives plenty of space for character development as the story progresses.

AND since it didn't post on my last author's note, the challenge was from w w w . kp slash haven . com (remove spaces), and the brilliant sapphicspencil (yes, I have seen (and loved) your work.)


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